


Special Delivery

by Got_Well_Soon



Series: Skate AU [5]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Christmas, F/F, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Got_Well_Soon/pseuds/Got_Well_Soon
Summary: A short Pricefield Christmas story. Holidays are exactly what you make of them.





	1. Chapter 1

The day after Christmas, a cold, clear day in Arcadia Bay. The doorbell rang. Max ran down to open it, clutching her favorite new toy. She flung open the door, whipped the camera to her eye, pressed the button. When she lowered it and grabbed the photo that spooled out, she found Chloe standing stunned, a surprised look on her face, a wrapped gift in her hands.

“Just great,” Chloe said. “Now I’ve got you _and_ my dad randomly pointing cameras at me.”

“Can you blame us? You’ll be a model someday.”

“As if. I don’t want to be a model.”

“Well, I want to take your picture, so too bad. Take a look!” The photo was revealing itself: Chloe, wide-eyed, still smiling, the small, flat box hanging loosely in her hands. Her bike was visible behind her, propped up against the side of the house.

“Just a scrawny geek, Max.”

“ _My_ scrawny geek. Get inside, it’s freezing out there.”

Chloe stepped inside. She briefly gave Max a hopeful, searching look, then the expression was gone. “This is for you,” she said, holding out the present.

“Wait, I have to get yours! Upstairs.” They scampered up the stairs to Max’s room, where Max set the camera down, then rummaged under the bed, coming up up with a wrapped gift of her own. “You go first,” she said, handing it to Chloe.

Chloe took it eagerly, tore off the wrapping. “Cool, a mix CD! What’s on here?”

Max had just labeled it “Chloe Mix” with a little heart. “You’ll find out when you listen to it!”

“A double surprise. OK, open yours.”

Max unwrapped her present, opened the box within, took out a small loop of colorful, braided cord. “It’s… a rope?”

“It’s a necklace, dork! I made us each one, they match, see?” Chloe pulled back the collar of her sweater, revealing an identical braid hanging from her own neck.

“Awesome!” Max enthused. She usually didn’t pay much attention to what she wore, had never really thought about jewelry, but she’d wear this. She slipped it over her head, lifted her ponytail over it. “I’ll never take it off. Let’s take a selfie.” Chloe pulled her own necklace out over her sweater, and leaned close to Max. Max awkwardly held up the camera, snapped the shutter.

The photo was poorly aimed; they occupied the right half of the frame, the top of their heads cut off. But at least you could see the necklaces. “Hmph,” Max grunted. “I need to practice.”

“You’ll get it,” Chloe said. She reached out, felt Max’s necklace between her fingers. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I love it.”

“I want to listen to this CD. Put it on!”

Max popped the CD into her little stereo, then flopped onto her bed. Chloe sat on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame. As the music started, she reached a hand back toward Max, who took it and held it. Chloe’s fingers lightly stroked hers; Max felt a warm buzz of happiness. It didn’t seem like a big deal.

* * *

They shared a studio on the top floor of a converted industrial building, not far from downtown Seattle. Not a glamorous locale, but cheap and an easy bus ride from their apartment. On one side was Max’s white backdrop and lights, her editing workstation, and a big equipment rack where she kept her gear. The other side, facing the old, tall windows, was Chloe’s; a high workbench covered in jeweler’s gadgets, a big red tool chest, and a chunky safe for storing precious metals and finished product. Between them, a cheap folding table with a microwave and a mini-fridge served as a makeshift galley. An old stereo sat silent.

Chloe perched on a stool, hunched over her bench, her jeweler’s loupe stuck in her right eye, muttering. She’d set up one of Max’s flood lamps on either side; it wasn’t even five o’clock and it was already dark outside. Max lounged at her desk, sifting halfheartedly through older photos on her computer. It was her slow time of year, not many weddings, bad weather ruled out most outdoor photography, not much else going on. Usually she enjoyed it, work nicely easing toward the end of the year as winter set in. Chloe, though, was swamped with holiday orders, much more so this year than in the past. Which was good, in theory, but it meant she was busting her ass in the studio while Max had little to do. They were out of sync, and it sucked.

Something on Chloe’s bench snapped and clinked and she shouted, frustrated, “Fuck! Get over here, you little bitch!”

That seemed uncalled for. Max got up and walked over to the workbench, leaned against it. “Yeah?”

Chloe started, turned toward her, dropping the loupe from her eye into one hand. “Huh,” she said. “didn’t think you’d answer to ‘little bitch’. Good to know. But… I wasn’t talking to you. Sorry.”

“It’s not my preferred form of address, but if you really need to blow off steam, hey, I’m here for you. Who were you talking to?”

“I was talking to this little bitch right here.” Chloe held up a tiny, baroque piece of brass, part of some larger work. Her style tended toward the mechanical, blending the machinery of watchmaking with the jeweler’s art. Even her simpler designs were often made up of multiple materials, joined in interesting ways. Which meant a lot of weird little parts that had to fit together exactly right, or the whole thing wouldn’t work. “I do need to blow off steam. No time.” Her phone lit up, made a cash-register’s _cha-ching_ sound. “Aaand… another order. Christmas can’t come soon enough.”

“What are you making, anyway?”

“Right now? Ah… it’s complicated.”

Max looked down at jumble of little parts, tools, and a stack of detail sketches, some of which were accompanied by mathematical formulae. “I can see that,” she said.

“Just… I dunno. You’ll see it when it’s done.”

Max moved behind Chloe, started to massage her shoulders. They were stiff beneath the fabric of her blouse, muscular and rigid with pent-up tension.

Chloe bent her head forward. “Dude, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Anything else I can do?”

“Well, in a few days you can help me photograph and ship a bunch of stuff. Until then… don’t let me starve to death.”

“I’ll keep the fridge stocked. For now I’m going to head home, I’m just spinning my wheels here.”

“Ciao.” Chloe stuck the loupe back in her eye, returned her attention to the parts in front of her.

Max left through the heavy steel door, walked the long block to the bus stop. It had rained earlier, everything was wet, street lamps reflected in puddles on the street. She shivered in the cold.

* * *

Max looked at the photo of little Chloe in the doorway, the box in her hands. She remembered the day; one of those times when, in retrospect, she was deeply in love and had no idea. She’d made good on per pledge never to remove the necklace, until it had fallen apart less than a year later. Chloe would be embarrassed by such shoddy construction now.

She pulled out her phone, sent Chloe a text. “What do you want for dinner? I’ll cook.”

The reply was quick. “Ate a frozen burrito. Sorry, on a roll here. Home late. xo”

“Fuck it.” Max sighed to herself. She put the album away, went into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, pulled out a blue box of instant mac and cheese. Cheap comfort food and TV. Again. She shouldn’t be bitter about this; they could really use the extra income. And Chloe had had to endure years of Max’s own absenteeism during her busy season. But still. Winter was when she wanted to slow down and cuddle on the couch with her wife. It was no fun to hibernate alone. She set some water to boil, then went back into the living room, turned on the lights on their little Christmas tree, which they’d topped with the Jolly Roger instead of a traditional star. But Max didn’t feel much like a pirate this year. She flipped on the tube.

The evening passed in boredom, and she went to bed early. She was awakened at some late hour by the sounds of Chloe getting home, undressing in the dark, sliding into bed, sudden warmth and life filling the empty spot next to Max.

“Hey, Chlo-bear,” Max said.

“Ah shit, I was trying not to wake you. ‘Night babe.”

“Goodnight.”

Chloe put her arm around her and started snoring softly. Max lay awake.

* * *

December 23rd. Chloe was still slaving in the studio, and Max spent the morning doing last-minute shopping for the rest of the family. What do you get for a guy like David Madsen? Bullets? She settled on wool socks. Everybody needs socks.

She got home in the early afternoon, loaded down with gifts and groceries, determined to make a nice holiday dinner, with or without her wife. She started wrapping gifts on the living room floor, but she wasn’t home long before the front door opened, and Chloe strode in carrying a small shopping bag, a triumphant look on her face. “Max,” she said, “it is fucking _done._ ”

Max looked up from her little pile of presents and rolls of paper. “Does that mean I finally get you back?”

“Yep. We’ve just got one more mission.”

“Which is?”

“I saved all the Seattle orders for last, and there’s no time to ship. Everything is packaged and ready to go, but we’ve gotta hand-deliver tomorrow.” Chloe reached into the shopping bag, pulled out a red Santa hat with white trim, tossed it to Max. “You’re my number one elf.”

“Who’s number two?”

“There is no number two elf.”

“OK… we’re going to spend Christmas Eve delivering your jewelry orders.”

“To all the good boys and girls. It’s gonna be awesome. Put on your hat.”

Max stared at the hat skeptically, then shrugged and put it on.

“Totally hot.” Chloe reached into the bag again, produced a second, identical hat, and put it on. “Whaddya think, do I look the part?” she asked, striking an exaggerated showman’s pose.

Max laughed. “You are ridiculous.”

“No, _we_ are ridiculous. This is something we do together, you and me.”

“Be ridiculous? God, Chloe, you are _so_ right.”

“I usually am. Come on,” Chloe said, offering Max her hand. “Get up, we’re going out.”

Max took her hand, stood up, then hugged her, hard. Chloe moved easily in her arms, hugged her back, lithe and strong. This felt like the real Chloe, back at last. Max breathed a sigh of relief. “Where to, Kemosabe?”

“I don’t even fucking care. Outside. Let’s go.”

* * *

The next day they got up early, donned the bulky, warm rainproofs which were a Seattle necessity at that time of year, plus the matching Santa hats, and piled into the truck. It was pouring; cold, heavy drops rattled continuously against the outside. Chloe was driving. “I made a list, and we’re going to check it twice because we _really_ don’t want to deliver the wrong thing to the wrong person. A lot of these have inscriptions that would be… so awkward.” She handed Max a sheet of paper. “Every package has a number. We go in order, starting at the top.”

“Wow, Chloe, this is so organized.”

“I know,” Chloe said, her brow furrowing. “I’m turning into my father.”

Not the sort of comment Chloe used to throw out lightly. Max was surprised. “Happens to the best of us. The other day I found myself on the couch drinking beer and watching hockey.”

“As long as you don’t grow a beard.”

Max stroked her chin thoughtfully, imitating her dad. “I think we’re safe.”

They had a couple dozen orders to deliver, all over town. A tight schedule. They started to the south of the city, winding their way north-east around Lake Washington in a meandering arc. People were universally excited to get a visit from the artist herself, and the packages in the truck’s cab were gradually replaced by wrapped cookies, brownies, candies, even a bottle of someone’s home-made wine. Chloe, initially trepidatious at the prospect of interacting with her customers in person, slowly came round to the spirit of things and seemed to really be enjoying herself. Climbing back into the truck, after delivering a particularly expensive custom ring, she remarked, “You know, I make all this stuff and I send it out and I never hear about it again. It’s nice to actually put it in people’s hands myself, for once.”

Max played the role of her “assistant”, which gave the idea that Chloe was far more wealthy and successful than she actually was. As long as nobody noticed the ancient vehicle they’d arrived in.

Noon came and went, and Max’s stomach growled. She looked down at her list of deliveries. “There’s gotta be room in here for lunch.” The were in the vicinity of Max’s parents house. “We could stop by my folks’ place.”

“Nope, I’ve got a place in mind.” Without further explanation, Chloe piloted the truck through familiar neighborhoods. She passed the skate park, a place loaded with happy memories, and parked outside the old hoagie shop. “This joint has a special place in my heart, and, amazingly, is open on Christmas Eve.”

“Wow, we haven’t been here in years…” The shop hadn’t changed, but somehow it felt smaller, more shabby than it had when they’d frequented it as teenagers. It was empty, and the guy behind the counter didn’t bat an eye at two young women in matching, slightly sodden Santa hats. Max left a generous tip in the jar. They sat at the little two-top in the window, and ate hoagies which didn’t entirely live up to Max’s memory. But, as always, Chloe finished the tail end of Max’s sandwich with enthusiasm.

“If I ever eat the entire thing, will you divorce me?” Max asked.

“Interesting. Possibly. Let’s not find out,” Chloe said. She swallowed the last bite, washed it down with a swig of soda. “I mean, I love you and all, but a girl’s got needs.”

“I understand.” Max smiled and leaned back in her chair.

They sat a while and watched the rain, ceaselessly coming down outside the window. Chloe shook her head. “You know Max, today would really suck if I were doing it on my own.”

“I know. Don’t worry, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“Next house, I’ll be you and you be me.”

“What?”

Chloe grinned. “Come on, it’ll be fun. You be Chloe Price, Noted Local Artisan for a while.”

“There are photos of you all over your website. Everyone knows what you look like.”

“Maybe I’m not the artist. Maybe I’m just the model.”

“Hmm. Ok.”

The next delivery was in Shoreline, just north of Seattle proper. A middle-aged man sporting glasses and a button-down shirt opened the door.

“Hi,” Max said, holding out a box. “I’m Chloe Price, here with your order.”

“Oh, wow…  so  _you’re_ Ms. Price! So good to meet you! Funny, I just assumed you modeled your own jewelry, but…” he looked at Chloe, clearly recognizing her.

“This is Maxine,” Max said, introducing Chloe, “she’s my model down at the studio.”

“Hi,” Chloe said, inclining her head and batting her eyelashes at the man.

“Oh… do you have a lot of people?”

“No no,” Max said, “it’s just Maxine and I. Yup, I make all the jewelry, she does all the modeling.”

“Wow, ok. A full-time model, huh? Nice work, if you can get it.”

“It’s actually pretty boring,” Chloe said, her voice lilting. “I spend most of my time just… lounging around in my underwear, waiting for Chloe here to put some new bauble or another on me.”

“It can be tricky to get just right, for the photos” Max added, “and Maxine has to be in the right… mood. I guess you’d say it’s very…” she turned to Chloe, reached up, ran one finger down the side of her face, “… _hands on_ work.”

The man scratched the back on his head. “I see… I… I’m an accountant, I don’t… know anything about that sort of thing.”

“Well,” Chloe said, “you should stop by the studio sometime… see us in action. We’re not shy.”

Max twitched. She was struggling to suppress a giggle.

The man’s eyes widened, then he regained his composure. “I don’t… that won’t be necessary. My wife… this is the bracelet?” He finally took the box from Max, opened it. “Oh, good, she’s going to love this. I hope. Thank you, Ms. Price, have a happy holiday.” He shut the door abruptly.

Max gave in to the giggles. Chloe, choking back her own laughter, pulled her back to the truck. “Quiet, quiet, he’ll hear us!”

Safely on the road again, it all came spilling out. “Did you see the look on his face?” Max said, breathless. “Oh no, I hope he doesn’t leave some weird online review!”

“I dunno… I kind of hope he does! Ok, next time, um, I’m me and you’re you, but I’m like Scrooge, and you’re like Cratchit.”

“I’m your long-suffering Victorian clerk?”

“You’re my long-suffering assistant and I am a stingy bitch. I apologize in advance for anything I might say.”

“Wait, how is this different from normal?”

Chloe’s face fell. “What?”

“Kidding, dork. You’re the best wife ever.”

“Oh. Yeah I am! Ok, get yourself as downtrodden as possible, the next delivery is pretty close.”

“Please, missus, if I might have a biscuit? I haven’t eaten since yesterday noon.”

Chloe snorted. “Good. Maybe less nineteenth century.”

“I’ll work on it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The game continued through several iterations. A few customers were left bewildered, but most never realized that anything was amiss. Max and Chloe decided to up the ante.

At the next address, Chloe stopped the truck around the corner, and Max got out. She jogged through the rain to the front door, rang the doorbell, and started to introduce herself as Chloe Price, Noted Local Artisan to the woman who answered. But before she could finish, the truck came roaring around the corner and screeched to a halt in front of the house.

"Price!" Max cried, spinning to face the truck. "She found me!"

Chloe leapt out. "I've got you, you blasted impostor!" she bellowed, charging down the walkway toward Max.

Max leapt aside, dodging the charge, then sprinted in the opposite direction, away from the house. "You'll never take me alive, Price!" she called, looking back to see Chloe angrily shaking her fist from the front steps, yelling back, "Caaaaulllfiieeld!!!" Behind her, the customer stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Max kept running until she was around the corner and out of view, then stopped, laughing between breaths, her hands on her knees. Once she'd caught her breath, she pulled the hood of her waterproof jacket over her head, shoved her hands into her pockets, and sat down contentedly on the curb, wondering how exactly Chloe was going to explain their little scene.

Soon enough the truck pulled up in front of her. "Ok," Max said, climbing aboard, "how did that go?"

Chloe was grinning. "Took her awhile to come to her senses. I gave her her stuff, didn't bother to explain at all, and at first I thought she was going to let me get away with it, but at the end she asked, by the way, what hell was that all about? I told her you were my arch-enemy from the secret, elite jeweler's college I attended on a mountaintop in Nepal, and that you were trying to steal my secrets."

"Genius. Think she bought it?"

Chloe shrugged. "Not sure I care."

Max stretched across the cab of the truck to kiss her, their lips wet and cold from the rain. "Love you," she said, pulling away. "We may not be able to top that, though."

"Yeah... it's getting dark. We'd better try to finish up."

Max picked up the list, at this point damp and smudged. "Next on the list... one Kate Marsh."

When they arrived at the modest but nicely kept house, a pretty young blonde answered the door, a crucifix hanging prominently from her neck. “Yes?” she said.

Chloe introduced them. “I’m Chloe Price, this is my assistant, Max. I'm delivering your order.”

“Oh wow, you came in person. I’m Kate. You both look pretty chilly, can I offer you some tea?”

“Actually…” Chloe began to demure, but Max cut her off.

“I’d love some tea,” she said.

Kate led them into the house. It was decorated with a mixture of religious art and cute paintings, the sort you'd expect to find in a children's book. “It’s so nice to meet someone from Arcadia Bay. I was at Blackwell for a year and really fell in love with the town. How long have you been in Seattle?”

They made small talk while Kate fussed in the kitchen, and soon enough they were all in the living room, steaming cups of tea set out on the coffee table.

“Alright,” Chloe said, clearly getting impatient. “I've got the necklace here, might as well make sure it's all correct.”

“Ok,” Kate replied. She took the box from Chloe, produced a flat gold and silver filigreed feather on a necklace chain. She read the inscription aloud. "'For Rachel, a true friend.' That's right. Thank you." She put the necklace back in the box.

Max sipped her tea. "She must be a good friend, that's quite a gift."

Kate nodded vigorously. “We were at Blackwell together. I had a hard time when I first got there, and she accepted me as I was when no one else would. She… taught me a lot. We don’t see much of each other anymore; she lives down in L.A., but we’re still friends. I always thought I owed her a better thank you, and this is it.”

Max found herself charmed. She liked Kate.

“Wait a minute,” Chloe said. “Rachel at Blackwell? You mean Rachel Amber?”

Kate nodded.

“She’s the one my stepdad pulled out of that crazy bunker! With that sicko photography teacher! I can’t believe she stayed at Blackwell after that.”

Kate’s eyes were wide. “David Madsen is your stepfather?! You must be so proud! He’s the hero of Blackwell.”

“Um…” Chloe looked lost, stared into her tea. Max knew about the scandal, the drug ring and the photos. Once freed of Chloe’s daily heckling, David had grown more clear-eyed and discovered the whole thing operating under his nose. But they didn’t really think of him as a hero. He was still an asshole a lot of the time, especially back then. And it wasn't like he'd saved anybody's life.

"Yeah," Max said, "he's certainly... stalwart."

* * *

Back in the truck, having finished their tea and said their goodbyes, Chloe started the engine, but left it in park. She stared at Max quizzically.

“What?” asked Max, staring back.

“You are totally crushing on her.”

“What?! No I’m not!” Max protested.

“Yes you are. She _is_ cute. She’s probably straight, but you never know…”

Max flushed. “Chloe, come on, I like her, she seems like she has a good heart, that’s all.” 

“Alright." Chloe put the truck in reverse, started backing out of the driveway. "Where to next?"

They didn’t finished until well after dark, the last few deliveries clearly interrupting family meals. Chloe stayed in the truck with the engine running, while Max handed over packages with a minimum of interaction. On the way home they grabbed takeout noodles, but, too hungry to wait, ate them in the car beside the road, using disposable chopsticks to lift noodles from the little white cardboard boxes, the incessant rain still drumming on the outside of the truck. The seal on the passenger-side door was bad, and every now and then an ice-cold droplet hit Max on her right side.

* * *

 

They arrived home to a cold, dark apartment. Max hurried to turn on the furnace while Chloe put away their haul of holiday treats, nabbing a few for desert. “After playing Santa all day I’m itching to open a few presents of my own,” she said.

“Totally,” Max agreed. “Let’s do it tonight. No one will ever know.”

“Yes! Score one for instant gratification. Let’s do this.”

“Hold that thought,” Max said. Her grungy street clothes were not going to work for an intimate Christmas Eve. She went into the bedroom, quickly stripped, pulled a little black dress out of the closet, and slipped it on over her head. She regarded herself, very briefly, in the mirror. There wasn’t much to this dress, cut above the knee, short sleeves, partially scooped back. She’d had it forever, but it still looked cute. She put the Santa hat back on for good measure.

Returning to the living room, she found Chloe sitting on the couch in her white tank top and jeans, all the insulating layers tossed aside. She’d turned on the tree lights, put a video of a fireplace on the TV, and even turned on some old-school carols. Two glasses of egg nog sat on the coffee table, or more likely, Max thought, two glasses of bourbon lightly amended with a splash of nog. Chloe looked her up and down. “Ooooh, pretty.”

Max gave her a little curtsy. “I know what you like.” She sat on Chloe’s lap, felt the comfortable warmth of Chloe’s hands, one in the small of her back, the other on her knee.

“And what would you like for Christmas, little girl?” Chloe asked, looking up at her.

Max bit her lower lip, feigning concentration. “Hmm. I’d say I’m looking for a nice tall drink of water, blue eyes, good shoulders, legs from here to there. Preferably tattooed.”

Chloe beamed. “Well, if you’re a good elf, we can probably find one of those somewhere. Go see what’s under that tree.”

They opened a barrage of small gifts, some from each other, some from their parents. Chocolates. New socks, of course. Fruit preserves in fancy jars. Books. The odd kitchen gizmo. Discarded wrapping paper piled up around them. Until finally, there were just the two important presents under the tree, from each other, to each other. Max picked them up, sat next to Chloe on the couch, and handed Chloe’s to her, a broad, flat box. “You go first,” she said.

Chloe unwrapped it and opened the box, found a grey folder within. She flipped it open, and stared at an 8x10 photo of a helicopter, flying above snow-covered mountains. “What.” she said.

Max poked at her elbow. “Keep going!”

Chloe turned the page to a printed itinerary. Four nights at one of the fanciest ski lodges in the state. And below that, helicopter skiing. A two day booking.

Max smiled as she saw Chloe’s eyes widen.

“Holy shit, Max! Two days?! This is for rich people, we can’t afford this! And… since when do you want to go heli-skiing?”

“I’m not, I’m going to enjoy our five-star accommodations while you ski. Maybe hit up the bunny slope. We couldn't afford it if we were paying for it, but we aren’t.”

Chloe looked at her, incredulous.

“Remember that ski trip we took last year,” Max continued, “when I did the shoot for the resort? It was a barter. No cash, off the books. This trip is their payment.”

“You are so fucking brilliant.” Chloe resumed staring at the itinerary. “This is gonna be awesome. I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“I know!” Max said. “When they contacted me about doing the shoot I just about jumped for joy.”

“Well done, babe. Thank you. Here, open yours.”

Max opened the her own, small box. She'd handled a lot of identical boxes earlier in the day, so she wasn't terribly surprised to find a necklace inside; a bright, heart-shaped pendant on a gold chain. She lifted it out and examined the pendant, a heart made of something smooth and pearlescent, bound with gold and silver bars in a complex arrangement. It looked vaguely mechanical but shone brilliantly in the light, shot through with polished surfaces glittering around the light-colored core. "Wowser," she said, momentarily at a loss. "It's gorgeous."

"It's also a locket," Chloe said, sounding a bit smug.

"Really? Even more wowser... how do I open it?"

Chloe shrugged. "You'll just have to figure it out."

"Oh, for cereal?!" Of course Chloe would give her puzzle jewelry. She loved watching people struggle. "Ok, it's on, I can solve this." Max went to work on the locket, which at a first pass didn't seem to have any moving parts at all. Chloe picked up her glass of egg nog, leaned back on the couch, and observed. As Max fiddled, the complexity of the device in her hands became more and more apparent. "There are so many little parts... aha!" A golden bar slid sideways with a satisfying click. But nothing else happened. "Argh, not enough. Give me a hint?"

"Symmetry."

"Hmm...." A few more minutes of fiddling, and a silver bar slid, opposite the gold. A seam appeared in the central heart, and Max pulled it open, revealing a tiny photo inside.

"Nice!" said Chloe. "You are definitely way better than average at solving puzzle jewelry."

"I should hope so, after watching you make so much of it. Let's see..." Max held the locket up to the lamp beside the couch. The photo was of the two of them, teenagers, kissing, up against the cab of the truck. It was taken in profile, and you could see Chloe smiling through the kiss, the corner of her mouth upturned. Both girls looked completely happy. On the inside of the cover, there were tiny words: _My favorite kiss ever. Except for all the others._

“Chloe… this is so awesome. I don’t recognize the photo, where’s it from?”

“I was wondering if you’d remember. This was from your senior year of high school, when I was taking classes at the junior college. I came to pick you up after school, and we were making out in the parking lot.”

“Like always!” Max interjected, giggling.

“Yeah… we really flaunted it, didn’t we? I bet every guy at that school was jealous. So this one guy came by and took a picture with his phone. I told him I’d kick his ass if he didn’t send it to me, and it turned out to be a great shot so I saved it.”

“I can’t believe you made this while you were doing all your holiday orders.” Max turned the locket over in her hands, feeling the different metals. “It must have taken you forever.”

“Forever and a half. I actually made two.”

“One for yourself?”

“Nah, I sold the other one. That’s how I paid for all this metal. It… has a different photo. Obviously.”

“Now I’m curious.”

“Just some random dude and his wife. They look like the photo that comes with the frame at the store. The inscription is just ‘For Larissa’ or Clarissa or whatever the fuck her name is. I can’t even remember.”

Max laughed. “I hope you got it right!”

“No complaints so far. Although I shipped it closed, maybe they haven’t figured out how to open it yet.”

Max closed the locket, put on the necklace. “Hopefully this’ll survive longer than the last necklace you gave me.”

“Those matching braids? Not my best work. Still, I’d say they did the job, that day was pretty sweet.”

“You remember it?”

“Of course! You called me ‘my scrawny geek’ and then you let me hold your hand for like an hour. I was grinning like an idiot for days.”

“Aw… you should have kissed me.”

“I don’t know about that. You were twelve, Max.”

“Yeah… I guess you’re right. It’s hard to remember that, I just think of us as having always been together." Max thought for a moment. “So what job is this necklace supposed to do?”

Chloe blinked. “It’s… just a Christmas present.”

“And?”

“And? You’re trying to get me all sappy!”

“Sure am.”

“I just… want to see you smile, Max. It seems like… the only thing that matters anymore. There.”

“I smile at you every day, silly.”

“Never, ever stop.”

Max fingered the locket. “I won’t.”

“Ok, that’s all the sappy you get tonight. But I hope your calendar is clear because I am so ready for some down time.”

“Nothing booked until January. I’m all yours.”

“Perfect. Keep dressing like this, by the way. I’ll pay the heating bill.”

“Including the Santa hat?” asked Max, tossing her head.

“Definitely keep the hat.”


End file.
